


The Pierced Heart

by Luthienberen



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Christmas, M/M, Winter, grimm_challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Grimm re-telling of 'The Snow Queen', wherein a Grimm is pierced by a shard from a particular mirror and a Blutbad must save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pierced Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sonneta for the Christmas Gift Challenge at grimm_challenge, who requested a Grimm re-telling of a fairy-tale. This is my Nick/Monroe take on the fairy tale ‘The Snow Queen’; a shortened version. Beta-read by rae_fa.

The Beginning

Long ago when the world was younger and magic was still whispered about by humans, there was a fairy.

Now, he wasn’t a good fairy, rather he was a sprite. Oh, what a mischievous little fellow he was, all malice and spite rolled into one. Wherever he went misery and cruelty followed. A broken beam, a snagging tree root, or a careful nudge towards a freezing river to quicken illness…all these things he rejoiced in.

For years he played his horrid games, until at last he was bored. Now, this wasn’t a good thing and certainly not a reprieve to his cruelty. No, instead he turned to crafting objects to aid in his horror.

Yet nothing he created outdid the mirror he wrought. In envy he designed this marvel, for it reminded him of the smooth clear ice of the snowy wastes of the world. The crystal clarity of the glass resembled the glittering waters that bound what we call the North Pole. 

The glitter touched upon the endless snow and ice that stretches for miles.

Yet, this work was the result of envy and little out of jealousy can bring joy. Indeed, this mirror was the sprite’s pinnacle of achievement.

For like the ice and snow it resembled, it reflected the image of the one peering into the glass. Yet that image was distorted and instead of sharpening the vision of one who looked, (like a real mirror aims to do), it rather clarified all that was bad in one.

Oh yes, this mirror magnified all that was base and evil and by the magic spells sketched into the glass by the sprite, it even allowed evil to take root in the one’s whose image was captured.

And so the sprite had great fun! Oh how he laughed and revelled as he sped around the world, catching the reflection of everything: animal, human, wesen that he flew across.

In such a manner the little sprite wrought much evil, causing evil to erupt like volcanic emissions and spread upon the winds of the world.

Until at last, the sprite had too much fun and in his frolicking he flew too high, sped too fast and in his haste the mirror slipped from his hands.

Down it fell and shattered upon the earth! Oh, what an evil day for now that horrid mirror was fragmented and upon the winds of the world these shards were picked up and carried.

Like the grains of sand on the seashore these fragments were numerous and whenever they pierced the eye of some unfortunate victim they turned that person or wesen as cold as the wintry North.

If a grain or even rarer, a shard, struck the heart of someone, then even the most loyal and noble of people became cold and slowly cruelty crept into them and much malice and evil they practised upon the ones who loved them most.

 

* * *  


 A Grimm and a Blutbad

Countless years later after these events, there lived two men. These men were extraordinary, for one was a Grimm and the other a Blutbad.

Unlike the fairy-tales of old, the hunter of wesen, particularly the Big Bad Wolf, and the Wolf among wesen lived in harmony.

How did this occur? Well, the Grimm was a police officer who craved justice for all, whatever their species. The Blutbad meanwhile eschewed all the trappings of the Big Bad Wolf and adhered to being kind and loving.

When they met a great friendship sprung from the first days of forced necessity. From this friendship was sown the seeds of a different love. This love bore fruit and the two became lovers.

So they lived, the Grimm and Blutbad in the city of Portland and the Grimm hunted alone no more and the Blutbad was no longer without a pack.

Together they fought and protected wesen and human alike.

Into this tale the sprite one day entered through the accursed mirror fragments.

On a winter day when the snow fell heavily and ice ensconced Portland like never before, the Grimm and Blutbad were hanging decorations in preparation for Christmas.

As the Blutbad finished the lights the Grimm who was standing back with a statue suddenly exclaimed.

“Ow!”

“Nick,” for that was the Grimm’s name, “what’s the matter?”

“A snow flurry got me in the eye and the cold wind pierced my coat.” Breathing deeply, hand to body the Grimm exhaled, “I’m fine Monroe,” for that was the Blutbad, “it is nothing.”

Oh, but he wasn’t for the dreadful fragment had entered the Grimm, eye and heart and already the poison spell was sinking into the very soul of the stalwart Grimm. All his honour and goodness began to blacken.

Monroe came to stand beside Nick studying him with worry before clasping his hands. “Are you sure?”

Suddenly irritated, the Grimm tugged his hands free and snapped, “I said so didn’t I? What is your problem Monroe? Forget this, I’m cold.”

Flinging down the elf statue the Grimm stalked inside leaving a stunned Blutbad.

Much later that night when the Blutbad had forgotten the peculiar behaviour of his Grimm they lay abed. Yet the Grimm could not sleep, so he rose as silent as a cat and walked to the window.

In the pale blue light of the stars and moon he watched through eyes growing silvery with the hunger for cold and darkness.

As he observed the snow gently falling he thought he noticed the little flakes increasing in size. He also wondered at how they spun to form almost human shapes in the slight breeze.

Eventually, as the snow thickened and the frost on the window arched in beautiful sweeps that in actual fact were ghastly, (for they formed beasts and dragons what portrayed savage teeth and claws), but were lovely in the eyes of the corrupted Grimm, Nick saw that the snow was a woman.

She was beautiful. Ice and snow crystallised in this creature to carve a sculpture of long hair, flowing like a glacier. Her eyes were blue and as clear as the purest lakes upon earth. Her skin sparkled in the moon and stars, making the Grimm recall freshly fallen snow in the wintry sun. Her raiment glittered like crystals caught in the flicker of light from a torch, in some cave deep in the earth.

For all this the Grimm noticed, he ignored the mischief in her gaze and how from one snowflake to the next her mouth, oh that wonderful mouth, thinned and how her musical laughter was cruel.

The shard in the Grimm had grown and all evil was good and clean while everything good was grotesque in his opinion.

Afraid yet entranced the Grimm reached out, determined to speak to this woman of ice and snow, for he was curious and not lacking in bravery this Grimm, he snatched a long heavy coat and socks, and unheeding of the freezing temperatures climbed out thus unprepared.

With a laugh of wild abandon the woman snatched him up. Crying out Nick was touched with a cold that penetrated to his very soul. Gasping he gazed up at the woman as they rose seemingly upon the snowflakes themselves.

Her beauty, her uncaring attitude made him shout, “Are you a Queen?”

The woman laughed merrily and as they flew across the starry sky, caught in a cone of snowflakes flung down a bolt of ice that caused two children to stumble and break legs.

Her cruelty simply made the Grimm adore her more, for what of the foolish children? They ought not to be about this hour. Now do you understand the power of that dreadful shard that had struck so deep the heart of the Grimm?

“I am a Gefrierengeber, dark Grimm. I come from the snowy lands of the North.”

“Father Christmas?” asked the Grimm confused.

“No!” she cried and Nick sighed, for deadly icy as her grip was he loved this woman and every word she announced. “I am wild and abandon. I am unfettered by concerns. I am snow and ice. And you shall come and live with me, dark Grimm.”

“Yes,” agreed Nick, for already he had forgotten his Blutbad, his memory cracked and broken under the immense power of winter.  
  


 

* * *

 

The Witch  
  


What did the Blutbad do when he awoke that morning and found the bed empty? 

Monroe did not panic for he was not a wolf given to flights of horror, after all, he _was_ a Blutbad, still fierce and brave if not bad.

So he dashed around the house, growing more concerned until he began calling friends. With each answer he grew more worried, for none knew where Nick might be. It was then, sitting down once more in their bedroom that Monroe espied the window.

Frost patterns of the most hideous glory were etched on the panes, a Minotaur, a wolf with its jaws fastened around its prey and a human holding a dagger above a kneeling child.

Horrified, Monroe crept to the window and his nose twitched. A scent of pine and earth lying silent under the cover of winter caressed him. A sweetness entwined these odour and Monroe shivered.

He had heard tales from his grandmother what a scent like this, coupled with imagery of frost like that, signified. A Gefrierengeber, and not one that left presents for children, but one of their darker, wilder cousins who revelled in their darker nature, summoning winds of ice and rain, of creeping frost and barren earth, of frozen waters.

If one had taken Nick…but why would Nick follow such an evil creature? Then another tale sprang into life and Monroe howled. 

Snatching his warmer garments and sturdy boots he fled the house on the hunt.

In his mind was the picture of a silvery mirror shattering into grey rain.

\- - - 

The Blutbad ran through woods, tall trees wearing white bonnets and roots white legs to trip unwary travellers. He ran, following the faint scent until he reached a house.

It lay nestled amid the woods, innocuous and sweet looking. Frost here patterned the windows with beautiful ferns and leaping stags. Snow dripped from the roof like a winter scene on a Christmas card.

Bright yellow light shone from the windows. Anxious, Monroe rushed to the door and knocked.

A woman with long golden hair answered. 

“What is the matter Blutbad?” she asked, “Why are banging on my door so hard?”

Monroe was in too much of a state to question how she knew his name. “I am looking for my husband. He has dark hair and pale skin, with grey eyes. He was with someone…”

The woman smiled and appeared sad. “My name is Adalind. Please come in. I haven’t seen your friend, but I can tell you’re tired. Rest a while before you continue.”

Monroe felt the weariness creep into his bones and though reluctant agreed. He entered and immediately was stunned to see the glorious Christmas display. He rushed forward exclaiming over the tall Christmas tree burdened with red tinsel, blue and green lights and candy canes. 

“How wonderful! Oh man, you have a miniature train set under the tree!”

Crouching to examine the train that was chugging away on a path under and around the tree and along the corners of the room Monroe forget his mission.

The witch, for the young woman was a witch, smiled. 

Walking into her kitchen she picked up a cake she had been baking while she waited for her visitor; for she had seen him in her tea leaves last night. 

When Monroe saw the cake and tasted the caramelised apple and flaky pastry he sighed in pleasure for he loved food.

Adalind smiled, for her magic was working. Now, she wasn’t an evil witch but a lonely one. For so long no one had visited and she liked Monroe’s appreciation for glamour and fun. Yet to make sure, she removed the long wicked sword that hung over her mantelpiece. 

And so for days Monroe lingered, festooned in magic and food. It wasn’t until the sun came through the window one day, catching the bare wall above the mantelpiece that Monroe noticed the marks.

Leaning closer he noted how the marks resembled hooks for where something must have been hung. Curious, Monroe went searching until in the little shed next to the house he discovered the sword. The steel blade was sharp, the handle smooth and adorned by cursive writing in gold. The symbols set terror and power in him and Monroe knew they were magic.

Who would bear such a thing?

Wait…he knew one…Nick! His Grimm would and at once Monroe remembered his quest and crying out raced off, leaving the poisonous sword behind.

* * *

The Prince

Monroe ran on. Transformed his legs flowed with more energy and he barely felt the burn, only his breath hurt his throat as the freezing air abraded his delicate tissue.

Where to go next? It was not clear and the scent had almost vanished. Yet the Blutbad did not despair and instead bowed his head and continued.

Trees towered above him, eerie sentinels in this winter landscape. Vision shrouded by their vigil the Blutbad relied on his sight and hearing.

Then ahead he heard laughter of children and adults. Hopeful, Monroe sped up and clearing the corner, he saw a family of beavers.

When the father saw him he squeaked and cried “Run!” to his wife and children. 

“No! Don’t be afraid! I’m Nick’s Blutbad. Monroe!”

Gasping Monroe flung himself upon the terrified beaver and holding the squirming figure showed their crest: a wolf and human under a full moon.

This crest was known among all wesen, good and bad, and the beaver stopped and gazed up at him.

“Wh…wha…what can I do for you Mr Blutbad?”

“Have you seen Nick?”

“No…no.” Whiskers twitched nervously, but Monroe scented no lie. Depressed, Monroe released the beaver.

“I’ll go on my way then.”

The beaver nodded then frowning said, “Have you tried the Prince and Princess? They might know.”

Of course. Now with more hope in his breast did Monroe smile and give thanks. Leaving the beaver he continued on until he reached the ends of the woods and there saw a large house. It was elegant and in favour of Christmas was adorned with much decorations, yet almost all were of nature.

Even the lights were a mixture of candles and flowers caught in never-ending spring.

Inhaling deeply Monroe walked warily to the front door knowing his every movement was being watched. Indeed, at the door he didn’t even knock for it swung open to reveal a dark man with shrewd eyes.

“What’s your business Blutbad?”

“Portland’s Grimm is missing and I can’t find him anywhere.”

Alarm showed and the man stood aside, “Quickly, I’ll take you the Princess.”

Down a long hallway they strode with tapestries of French kings and Queens and a picture of Alexander the Great in a Persian palace.

“The Prince is fond of Alexander. He calls him a man of great intelligence, ambition and compassion.”

Monroe was more focused however on the shadows that shifted behind them, following in their wake. “What of the shadows?”

“The Princess’ creations; they are formidable guardians as they prey on your dreams. Be careful, if you mean harm then you will fall into a living sleep that will never end, only when you’ve wasted away.”

Monroe shuddered, “I will.”

The man smiled and led him into a room filled with shelves, bottles, jars and books. A long workbench was in the middle and over it was bent the Princess and in a chair behind her the Prince.

Cold eyes fixed on Monroe, but he stared back unflinching. The Prince ruled with an iron will, softened only by his lady who had won him through cleverness and bravery.

Now the Princess once more intervened and looking up asked, “What is the matter Blutbad?”

And so Monroe told his tale and the Prince became grave and the Princess pale. Yet she spoke with strength in her voice when he had finished, “This is grievous, but not insurmountable. Renard has suspected that <i> _She_ </i> might have come and has been seeking her. He has an idea.”

“I will hand you the map I have drawn myself.”

“And I,” said the Princess brown eyes gentle and warm, face sprouting red-brown fur with splashes of white, “will give you the means to defend yourself if needs be and to heal your wounded Grimm.”

Monroe cried with relief and joy, thanking both a thousand times. As he waited the Prince had the man, Hank, arrange food to be delivered via a servant. Thus refreshed, Monroe received his gifts:

A long fur coat to wrap Nick in; supple fur boots for Nick; a golden flask filled with a liquid that would restore ‘even one on the verge of death’ whispered the Princess and in a vial of red, green and gold glass a potion that would for an instant halt a winter storm.

With these instruments Monroe took leave, accepting the map from the Prince and bidding the fair Princess farewell.

“Bring him back Monroe! Do not forget your prayers!”

“I shall your Highness.”

 

* * *

The Winter Palace   


What of the Grimm? How fared he while his lover sought him? Not once did he think of his faithful husband. 

At the end of their flight he and the Queen had paused at her temporary home. Oh what a sight it was!

For though the palace was temporary in creation it was yet a splendid one. 

Roots and branches from the surrounding trees had been bent via magic to form an oval structure. In the gaps ice had formed with frost tracing the delicate panes, so that it appeared like stained glass windows.

So many hues of blue touched the icy windows that anyone who gazed upon it would be quite dazed and unable to absorb how the navy blue paled through many subtler shades until the there was no more blue but simply shining white.

No doors existed. Trees, ice and frost formed the walls, but where the doors ought to be only swept the cold winds of the North. 

Inside closely packed snow formed flawless floors, rivalling marble in their splendour and smoothness.  No furniture adorned these halls, where pillars of icicles rose to the celling, gripping a bent tree root with jagged fingers.

The halls were silent, echoing only with the wind. No laughter or joy endured here, only the bitter cold.

In the midst of this sat the Grimm and the Queen. In darkness they sat, lit only by the white stars and silvery moon that shone through the glittering panes. The sun would bring a mockery of warmth in its weak yellow glimmer.

The Queen sat in the middle of a frozen lake. Like any proud Gefrierengeber she had built her own throne, out from the shards of the lake. The waters that appeared in the gaps around her throne were black and did not ripple as if caught in one instant of time.

The Grim was black with cold, yet he did not feel it. So consumed by the shard of that accursed mirror anything frozen or borne out of evil warmed him in a funny way. He had grown numb to all that was good and instead spent his days trying to design imitations of the Queen’s wonders.

As he worked the Queen rose and said in her frigid voice, “I must go and create havoc among the humans and wesens alike. Their toys must break and the snows must drive them to huddle and freeze in their homes. The black winds shall bite hard today.”

Then she took her leave and the Grimm toiled on.

The Queen left in a flurry and into this tale the Blutbad arrived.

Ah, his breath stopped at the beauty of the abode of the Queen. Standing before it Monroe was lost in its shifting patterns and gusting winds. Yet over it all there was an aura of malice.

Goodwill had not created this wondrous palace, only evil intent that when the initial wonder faded, fear seized the heart and numbed the mind. 

_Do not forget your prayers ._

The Princess’ words roused Monroe and reciting a prayer loudly Monroe unstopped the vial and with a vigorous throw at the gaping entrance watched.

The winds ceased, their voice silenced and power subdued.

Into the palace Monroe strode and as he searched he prayed as advised until at last he found his husband.

“Nick!” He rushed forward and clasped hands deadly cold in his own. But his Grimm stared at him with eyes frosty blue and did not respond.

Howling, Monroe took up the flask and poured its clear fluid over the Grimm who gasped and shuddered. It was then the evil spell broke and the shard dissolved in his heart and eye.

“Monroe?”

Laughing with joy, Monroe hugged his husband, for Nick was his husband in truth once more, and quickly clad him in the clothes he had been granted.

And so, they abandoned this palace of winter and Monroe bore his husband to the Prince and Princess for Nick was too weary to walk far. There the Princess gave him another drink, one of silver-gold, which soothed his pained muscles and relit the fires of vitality within.

After some time they went on, Grimm and Blutbad until they returned home.

There they sat together, joking and rejoicing in the warmth of their home and in the lights of the Christmas tree they kissed, husbands once and forever.

 


End file.
